


Honey and Ash

by Hollandroos



Category: Draco Malfoy - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy Angst, Draco Malfoy smut, F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy Romance, Romance, Smut, draco malfoy fanfiction, draco malfoy imagines, draco malfoy series, draco malfoy x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollandroos/pseuds/Hollandroos
Summary: Ainsley Artherrow thought she'd already made the toughest decision she'd ever have to make - to follow her mother's murderous footsteps or to follower her fathers gentle, caring ones. Back then, she followed her father by spreading light and love and she thought that was it for her. But when Ainsley finds herself at Hogwarts, she suddenly has to make that same choice again. Only this time it involves Draco Malfoy."Just come home," Draco speaks softly. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable before. "It's in your blood, An."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy X OC, Draco Malfoy x Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. One

Ainsley Artherrow was ten years old when her father was killed in a tremendous bombing at the ministry of magic. She had been with him one second, sprinting around his office with an arm full of dolls and a faux wand given to her on her eighth birthday.

She’d been so happy and even her father had joined in to have a fake wizard dual in his shoebox-sized office – she had picked the office out for him because it had the most sunshine.

The next thing she remembered was that her nanny had come to collect her so she wouldn’t have to sit through another three-hour meeting. The young witch had scooped her up in her arms and they’d barely got ten steps away from the building when the whole thing blew up.

Somehow there was blood on her face and on her dress.

Shards of the building flew everywhere, some of them hitting her and others hitting bystanders or landing smack on the footpath. They sliced through her skin, tore her clothing and got tangled in her hair. Ainsley, who didn’t even try to run from the explosion, stood and watched.

Her daddy was in there.

As fire erupted from the building her nanny – the witch who was only twenty-four years old fell to the ground and began screaming in agony. Ainsley wanted to scream too as blood erupted from the girl's chest and the nanny she’d come to love lost more blood then the ten-year-old assumed was normal.

The smell was atrocious and she still remembers it to this day. It was a sick mixture of death, smoke and more pain then one could ever imagine. Ainsley still remembers crying herself to sleep for months after that, no amount of dreamless sleep being able to stop her nightly cries.

Her nanny. Dead.

Her father. Dead.

The ones who all cared for her after her mother left were inside that building and they were dead.

Her breathing was ragged, her hair knotted and clothes torn as she searched through the rubble only to find dead bodies that didn’t belong to her father.

They were dead, they were all dead.

Her father was dead, buried somewhere beneath the rubble and all she could do was claw her way through with bleeding, nimble fingers as some of the surviving wizards and bystanders tried to scoop the small girl up. She didn’t want him lying there all by himself, without her.

Looking through the clouds of ash, she feels close to giving up. Her lungs were giving out and the rubble went on for blocks. Her feet ached, her shoes having ripped many moments ago and blood seeped from her arms, legs, cheeks.

Between clouds of smoke, she spots a small boy probably the same age as her just staring.

He wore all black, his platinum hair somehow cleaner than anyone around her. Through the ash he simply looks like a ghost and for a moment the child wonders if he is.

“It’ll be okay.”

She’s not one hundred percent sure she hears correctly over the deafening screams, but that's what she heard.

“Come with us.” The boy speaks again, and so she does. Maybe he knows where her dad is.

As she takes her first step, a set of arms wrap themselves around her waist – but it’s not her father.

“Ainsley, thank Merlin!”

The memory was still so fresh. She could still remember Remus Lupin pulling her from the ash and finding her help. Moments more and she may’ve died too, probably joining the pile of bodies that lay beneath the building. Joining her father.

Yes, she was grateful for Remus saving her life. But Ainsley often couldn’t help but wonder if it would've been easier if she had died that day too. No nightmares and ultimately not having to hide her identity after discovering her mother was the one that caused the bombing. As well as the following guilt that occurred.

If she had been a better child, would her mother have stuck around? Would she have remained sane?

She had come to the conclusion that the shadow boy she’d seen in the ash had been a result of severe blood loss and trauma and never thought much into it for the years following. Though she still remembered the pale, blonde-haired face she’d seen between rubble and ash.

Now, seven years after the traumatic event Remus had decided she had to finally leave her comfort zone and meet new wizards – as well as continue a proper education despite Ainsley insisting she was happy with Remus’ kitchen lessons. She had lost that argument.

The train ride to Hogwarts was nothing short of pleasant. At least that’s what Ainsley tries to tell herself. Ainsley Artherrow stared at the scenery, trying to drown out her overthinking with pointless views of the endless hills and lakes. As they pass, so does any sense of comfort she once had about the journey.

She feels so alone as she sits by herself in the room that should’ve taken at least six. Students run past the windows in groups. She could hear the giggles from the room next to hers and releases a sad smile toward the ones that stopped and stared in at the lonely girl before wandering along.

Ainsley Artherrow had heard about Hogwarts before from Remus. She’d heard of its decadent design, the many opportunities she’d be greeted with and of course, Albus Dumbledore. She should’ve been happy to be heading there. But somehow all Ainsley felt as she sat in the shaky cart was fear.

She could’ve at least bought her earbuds with her, she thinks as she draws shapes on the windows that were slowly fogging up. Soon whatever was outside would be impossible to see and she’d have to stare at the wall for another hour or so. Brilliant.

Still, she continues to draw little stick figures and poorly scribbled hearts on the glass.

Loneliness had always been something Ainsley had felt. It had become a part of her, buried deep inside her to the point where Ainsley could scratch and claw at it and it’d remain.

Soon she’d stare into a crowd of students and she would know nobody, not a single one of the students that she was supposed to go to school with. However, she counted on the fact that everybody would already know who she was. She was Ainsley Artherrow, daughter of Octavious and Estorina Artherrow, two of the wizarding world's most known wizards. And of course, one was the world's most feared.

Estorina Artherrow. She destroyed families, killed hundreds of wizards and muggles. Heck, she killed her husband. And now Ainsley sat in the train by her lonesome self, a result of the love her parents once had - but not love strong enough to counteract Estorinas devilish desires.

And the weary-eyed students would know it too, she assumed.

She’d heard their story more times then she could count. No one would let her forget her brutal heritage. And of course, everybody wanted to know if she carried the same, sadistic genes as her mother.

Ainsley Artherrow was a good girl with a pure heart, it would only take 10 minutes of her time to recognise that.

She was only eleven years old when her father's friend said that she looked just like her mother and with that, they all assumed that she probably acted like her too. The group of men watched her in disgust but kept a fair distance in fear that she’d strike. If they took the time to know the girl they probably would’ve realised that she enjoyed playing with dolls and watching early Disney films.

When she was fourteen Remus had officially taken her in as his own. If she was being honest, there was probably no one else she would’ve trusted enough then the man who had saved her life. He had taught her magic from that day forward – but never teaching her more then she needed to know.

She asked to take his last name too.

See, Ainsley was powerful. One of the most powerful young witches in fact, but no one knew that and in her mind, no one ever would. She inherited all of her mother's powers and they all sat right at the tip of her wand, some in her fingertips. Ainsley would call herself the furthest thing from her mother who sat in Azkaban for the time being and most likely forever. Hopefully rotting for her crimes.

She’d seen photos of her mother and now, at the age of eighteen, Ainsely would say they could be twins. Almost. She naturally held the same oak brown hair that hung in curls, passing her shoulders and lower back and had the same piercing green eyes. The signature green eyes that could make even your worst enemy turn cold, she’d once been told.

Despite this, Ainsley liked to think she was just like her father. Just as kind, hopefully as brave. He had died at the hands of Ainsley's mother, the women he loved and that’s why despite the awful words, relentless bullying and isolation, she stayed true to her father and remained kind, sweet, brave and gentle.

Only on the inside, she felt cold. Lonely.

Little did Ainsley ever cry or even think about her mother, nonetheless the way she had completely torn the little girls world apart and for what – the approval of the dark lord? Her name printed on the cover of every paper in the wizarding world? Now Ainsley was a teenager with repressed feelings and trauma. Lovely.

Harry Potter and his two most beloved friends lurk outside the room, speaking just above a whisper. As ecstatic as they were to be back together – the golden trio once again reuniting, Harry and Ron were already getting on each other's nerves.

Summer had been bland for the three best friends. They’d done things that normal teenagers do. Hermoine had studied every chance she could, sometimes meeting up with the two best friends to go out for lunch or have sleepovers at the burrow. Ron had been trying to find new ways to woo the young girl and Harry had spent half of his trying to stay out of his aunt and uncle's faces and the other half with Ron.

“Just go in and ask her, I’m sure she’s nice!” Harry groans at Ron's reluctance.

They’d been together for nearly a single hour now and Harry had forgotten how stubborn Ron was. The two boys had also grown considerably since the last time they’d seen each other. Ron was taller then Harry now – but Harry’s hair was longer.

“Why does it have to be me?” The boy remarks. He had a point but Harry wouldn’t outright admit that.

“Because I want it to be you,” Harry replies. Ron wants to further defend himself and he would’ve too if he hadn’t of been interrupted. Hermoine shoves past the two boys and opens the door for herself. She was the bravest.

Ainsley jumps, green eyes piercing the three figures that loom over by the door. She expects them to size her up then walk out, or apologies for interrupting her thoughts.

“Can we sit with you? All the other rooms are full.”

The girl is the first to speak. Her voice is gentle and soft and Ainsley just can’t stay mad at the girl for the fright she’d received just moments ago. She was surely shocked that somebody had asked to join her on the long ride so instead of just sitting there and muttering a solid no, she nods her head.

“Yeah, sure, come in.”

Her voice is a little bit shakier than the other girls but she sends them all smiles– slightly weary smiles but smiles nonetheless. They all sit down, the girl directly in front of her and the two boys at her side.

“Thank you.” The girl replies. Ainsley can’t help but stare at her with a blank face. Eyes probably wide and doubtful. “I’m Hermoine.” Hermoine glances at the boy with the glasses, two perfectly shaped circles.

“I’m Harry – and this is Ron.” He says, extending his hand for a handshake which Ainsley gives gladly.

She lets go of his hand before speaking. “Nice to meet you.” There’s a small silence as they wait for her to say her name before she realises. For a moment she’s awestruck by the beauty of the young girl - Hermoine, the somehow familiar scar on the forehead of the boy with the glasses and the unusual sweater worn by the redhead - Ron. “Oh - sorry, I’m Ainsley.”

“Ainsley,” Hermoine repeats. “That’s a beautiful name. Your parents have taste.”

No, my mums a mass murderer. She thinks it but doesn’t say it.

The trip there onwards is a little less lonely. Ron offers her some awful looking candy which she politely declines. He even scrunches up his face after the very first bite. Harry tries to talk to her about quidditch and the possibility of her joining the team and Hermoine asks her if she’s caught up on the readings to which she shakes her head, no.

“So, are you new to Hogwarts? I don’t remember seeing you last year?” Harry speaks after many moments of wondering where the girl had suddenly appeared from. It was unusual for students to join late.

Ainsley nods her head signalling yes, she was new to the school. “I finally thought it was time to stop being afraid.”

“Afraid of what? Us? We don’t bite.” Hermoine tells her. Ron stifles a laugh and she jabs him with her elbow.

“Afraid of magic I guess. I don’t like using it.” Ainsley shrugs her shoulders, shrugging off the fact that for years, she prevented herself from using her magic due to fears of being like her mother. “But I’m here now and ready to learn how to use it.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of magic as long as you use it correctly,” Hermoine tells her as if she already didn’t know. “Don’t start hexing people left and right.” She chuckles.

“Like Draco Malfoy. You might want to stay away from him, rumour has it he’s a death eater.” Ron Weasly mutters between bites of his stale candy. Boy, that kid could eat.

Draco Malfoy.

The name rings a bell but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Malfoy.

Probably one of her mother's friends.

Harry had been silent most of the ride but at the mention of Draco Malfoy and the death eaters, he’d perked up. Truthfully he’d been stressed out of his mind for the majority of the break. He’d been researching. Burying himself in every book on dark magic he could get his hands on not once nor twice, mostly three times and sometimes four. Still, by the end of the break, he’d found himself in the same place he was in before break started. Stuck. Waiting for Voldemort to cast his death date.

Truthfully the boy had been haunted by nightmares. He was lucky if he could get four hours of sleep in one night. Most nights he got two.

“We don’t need to scare the poor girl before we even get to Hogwarts.” He chuckles. Though it's fake and Ainsley sees right through it. The poor boy looked exhausted, scared. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m just preparing her. If this year is anything like last, she'll need it.” Ron says. Harry isn't having any of it but before he can reply, Hermoine interrupts with something about potions class.

Despite her new friends, Ainsley felt lonely.

-

The great hall was more beautiful then she could’ve ever imagined. Students all caught up with one another, chattering amongst themselves to make up for an entire summer of being apart. They tended to stick with their houses, their ties indicating where they belonged. Only Ainsley was yet to receive one.

She swallows thickly before the students go silent all at once, heads turning toward the man who stands at the front near the large podium. Ainsley had concluded that the teachers were much scarier then the students at Hogwarts. If they wanted, they could probably have her dead in 0.1 of a second.

Dumbledore barely had to raise a brow to get the students to go silent. He radiated magic stronger then any Ainsley had seen before and it was clear that the students respected him.

“Welcome back students, teachers. I can not express how pleased I am to see you all back here.” He starts, “Now this year we have a new student starting with us. I would like you to welcome our newest student with open arms. Be kind to her, as you would want one to be to you. Her name is Ainsley Lupin.” She sends the principle a courteous nod for using the last name she had requested. “Now dear, shall we find out what your house is?”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to run out of Hogwarts and never return because if it occurred that she was in Slytherin then it would only confirm her greatest fear.

When Ainsley doesn’t do so much as budge from her seat, Dumbledore raises a brow at her and with a heavy heart, she makes her way to the front where a raggedy looking hat sits waiting for her.

She probably looked miserable dragging herself up there. She was preoccupied – her head swarmed by worries and fears and the thought of all the students and teachers gazing at her with curious eyes.

Were they this weary about all new students?

Carefully she places the hat on her head and shuts her eyes tight.

She wants to jump as the hat comes to life, situating itself on her head properly. The movement provides her with an uncomfortable feeling.

“I’ve been waiting for this one.” It cackles. She hates the feeling. “Ahhh, I see. What’re we going to do with you?” He squirms around her head and Ainsley cringes. “You’re ambitious and cunning, the traits of a Slytherin. You have Slytherin in your blood too.” Ainsley tenses almost too dramatically. “But that’s not what you want, is it?” The hat hums to himself and Ainsley shakes her head. There’s a scoff from the section of seated Slytherin and a quickly muted booing. “As gentle and hardworking as a Hufflepuff, but that doesn’t quite fit you either. You’re like your father, but not enough.”

There’s an almost empty silence, apart from the students around her who still whisper.

Not Slytherin.

I can’t be in Slytherin. Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw will work.

Her heart feels like it’s stuck in her throat as the beating practically suffocates her and Merlin - if she could, she’d probably throw up too.

“Gryffindor!’

Ainsley swears she’s never felt so relieved in her life and it's then that she notices she’d been holding her breath in, face surely turning blue from the lack of air.

Ainsley was confused but she’d take it. More so she feels relieved. Almost as if she were getting a fresh start. A chance to prove herself as someone different than her murderous mother – and maybe the students would give her a chance too. She wasn’t a Slytherin. She was not her mother.

A small chorus of cheers comes from the Gryffindor section and with worry probably scattered all over her face, she looks over to see who’s cheering for her. She recognises the three from the train. They, especially Hermione, gleam up at her.

Looking off to another crowded table her eyes lock with a boy off to the side a little bit. He looked confused, his brows were sewn together. He didn’t scowl at her or stare on with pity and Ainsley sends him a smile. He looked like he needed one – what, with his brows pushed that far together. It was such a small smile that None of the other students would’ve even noticed and Ainsley assumes the boy doesn’t notice either as he merely looks away.

Maybe Ainsley should’ve felt threatened by him but she could feel nothing else but curiosity. And a slight feeling of familiarity.

She looks away. Curiosity did kill the cat after all.

Draco Malfoy was intrigued. He recognised her straight away - of course he did. She had the same features as her mother, his parents once friend. Maybe he should’ve been slightly afraid of the girl, he wasn’t too sure yet but he knew that she was beautiful. And good god - she radiated a power that only the greatest wizards wish they held.

He doesn’t know whether to feel jealous or astonished but he feels a sense of dread for what her sudden appearance will mean for the school for him, his friends. The students look at her the same way they look at him. Fear.

“Another Gryffindor, how wonderful,” Dumbledore booms, silencing the not so quiet whispers. “Go take a seat, dear.”

Ainsley wonders if her father is proud of her - maybe he’s disappointed she didn’t make it into Hufflepuff. No. She stops herself from falling into a spiral of overthinking He’d be pleased to watch her become her own person.

In a hurry, Ainsley takes a seat. A spot was placed for her next to the redheaded boy she’d noticed earlier, perfectly adjacent from Harry Potter.

Ainsley's stomach rumbles – she’d been so nervous she hadn’t eaten breakfast or dinner but as an atrocious looking amount of food appears in front of her she smiles in delight, both due to the food, to a fresh start and a new family.


	2. One

When she was only a child, Ainsley Artherrow had to make a choice. Would she be like her mother? Selfish, greedy, and permanently at Voldemorts side with endless desires to kill and tear families apart? Or would she be like her father? Soft, brave and caring. Loved by everyone at Hogwarts and one of the strongest Gryffindors Hogwarts had seen.

People judged and ridiculed from the moment she was born, assuming left right and centre the type of person she'd turn out to be. There was endless pressure as she grew older and many wizards steered clear, fearing she'd be as deranged as her mother. Only very few believed she'd turn out like her father.

She thought it would be the hardest choice she'd ever have to make and that would be it. Life would only get easier from then onward, wouldn't it?

But now, just while everything is going right, Ainsley has met the ever so bitter and cruel Draco Malfoy Her supposed soulmate. At 18 years old Draco Malfoy expects her to make the toughest decision yet and as Voldemort's army grows, so do her biggest fears.

Draco Malfoy, or the life she'd work so hard to gain?

**Sneak Peak:**

"Just come home," Draco speaks softly. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable before. "It's in your blood, An."

Draco strongly believed her to be a Slytherin at heart, much like her mother. Estorina was truly something else. Slytherin children were told stories about her as they went to sleep. Her face was plastered all around the deepest, darkest alleyways. Draco had heard the name Estorina Artherrow muttered more times in the Manor then his own.

Draco saw Ainsley in her too. At least from the images he'd seen of her mother.

"I am home." Ainsleys lips quiver but she bites back the desire to hold in her tears. Harry, Ron, Hermoine, George and Fred, Luna, they were her home.

Was she about to lose the love of her life?

"I'm your home," Draco wanted to cry. Merlin, he wanted to cry to the wizards above. She was his home, and he was losing her. "You feel it, I feel it."

Ainsley knows he's right but once again she had to make a choice. Much like the one she had when she was younger. Would she follow Draco and chose a path led by darkness and cruel desires, or would she follow her father in creating goodness?


End file.
